


The Benders

by rustyleasty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Blow Jobs, Rough Oral Sex, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:55:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29328903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustyleasty/pseuds/rustyleasty
Summary: My personal interpretation of what happens in season 1 episode 15 when Dean spends an hour in the men’s bathroom in the bar.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	The Benders

Dean pulls the impala into the parking lot of the dingy bar, gravel crunching under the tires. The front of the small bar is filled mostly with motorcycles and the occasional compact car. The outside looks rough, but gives off a homey feeling that Dean knows will help him forget, even if only for a couple hours, about the stress of his life.

“Where are we?” Sam asks, looking up from the newspapers sitting in his lap. He’d been leafing through his dad’s journal for a majority of the drive, trying to find a starting point for the case they were thrown into. 

Dean leans forward in his seat, trying to get a better view of the bar sign. “Kugel’s Keg,” Dean reads, enunciating each ‘k’ with a kick. He smiles easily as he leans back into the leather. He’s needed a break desperately— the seemingly endless search for his dad has left him utterly strung out with worry. He feels as if he’s running in circles. When his dad did decide to call, it wasn’t to ease their worries, but rather to list off coordinates and send them off to another pointless hunt that doesn’t get them any closer to finding him. 

“Seriously, Dean? A bar?” Sam whined, gathering his research. He swings his legs out of the car and stretches, rolling his neck back and forth. “It feels like we’ve been driving forever, I’m hungry.”

Dean is fully aware that they’ve been driving so long, considering he’s the one who’s been doing the driving. He just rolls his eyes and gets out of the car too. Now standing in the cool night, he takes a deep breath and puts his hands at the small of his back. He stretches, popping his back, and shakes off the long drive. “Quit bitching Sammy. We both need a drink and you know it,” Dean said, throwing a smile and a raised eyebrow. “Plus,” he says, as if it’s obvious, “it’s a bar dude. Get some fries.” Sam scowls and shakes his head, a small exasperated smile forming at the edge of his mouth, as he walks across the parking lot to the entrance of the bar, leaving Dean behind. 

“So, the local police have now ruled out foul play,” Sam says with a frown. He has newspapers spread across the small sticky bar table and is leafing through his dad’s journal. “Apparently there _were_ signs of a struggle.” Pool balls clack behind him, a group of five or six men having just started a new game. 

“They could be right— could just be a kidnapping,” Dean looks over his shoulder from where he stands playing darts and shrugs. “Maybe this isn’t our kinda gig,” he says, turning back to the dartboard. He takes aim and throws a dart with skilled precision, and it hits the board with a dull thud. 

“Yeah, maybe not.” Sam flips through a few pages in the journal. “Except for this,” he punctuates the last word with a point to something written on the page he landed on. “Dad marked the area, Dean,” he says as Dean walks over to the small table. “‘Possible hunting grounds of a phantom attacker’,” he quotes. Dean walks around behind him to read the page on his own. 

“Why would he even do that?” Dean asks, skeptical of the legitimacy of the case. He takes a drink of his beer as Sam continues.

”Well, he found a lot of local folklore about a dark figure that comes out at night, grabs people, then vanishes.” Sam looks at Dean expectantly, as if he’ll have an answer for this phenomenon. “He found this too,” Sam continues. “This county has more missing persons per capita than anywhere else in the state.”

Dean looks at him, reluctant to admit that there might actually be a case here. “That _is_ weird.” He walks back over to the dart board, trying to wrap his mind around what their next move should be.

”Yeah.”

Dean turns back around, question evident on his face. “Don’t phantom attackers usually snatch people from their beds?” As he goes to look at Sam, his eye is caught by a man behind him playing pool. The man is tall, with dark hair and dark eyes, and holds eye contact with Dean as he bends over the pool table to take his turn. He’s wearing a worn leather jacket and biker pants, and Dean guesses this man can’t older than 30. Dean’s stomach flips at the man’s easygoing yet domineering presence, and his eyes flick back down to Sam. 

“Well there are all kinds— springheeled jacks, phantom gassers. They take people anywhere, anytime.”

Dean watches Sam speak, but doesn’t take in any of what he’s saying. He pointedly keeps his eyes off of The Man while he can feel his eyes on his body, raking over him, drinking him all in. However, as soon as he doesn’t feel those eyes boring into him anymore, he takes his turn to steal glances. Dean watches the man move around the table, talking and laughing with his friends. He watches the way The Man’s adam’s apple bobs when he takes a swig of beer, watches the way his hips move in those too-tight leather pants, watches the way his big hands grip his pool cue, long fingers wrapping around the tip—

“—look, Dean, I don’t know if this is our kind of gig either.” Sam says as Dean peels his eyes off The Man and turns back around to gather his darts. He can feel eyes on his body again; on the back of his head, on his back, and then onto something lower. 

“Yeah you’re right,” Dean admits. “We should ask around more tomorrow.” His eyes find The Man’s again and he throws him a wink, to with which The Man responds with a playful smirk. 

Sam follows the movement and raises an eyebrow. “Right,” he says skeptically. “Well, I saw a motel about 5 miles back—“

“Woah woah, easy,” Dean says with collected suave, eyes flicking back to The Man. “Let’s have another round.”

Sam shakes his head incredulously, with a small smile, knowingly trying to ruin Dean’s fun. “We should get an early start.”

“Well you really know how to have fun, don’t you, grandma?” Dean says, irritated. He waits for Sam to change his mind, but Sam continues to shrug on his jacket, and Dean realizes that he’s _actually_ trying to ruin his fun. “Alright, fine,” he says with a not-so-subtle eye roll. He throws his last dart at the board. “I’ll meet you outside.” He looks up to find The Man’s eyes again and announces, “I got to take a leak.” He hopes this is a clear enough invitation for The Man to join him, but it won’t be the end of the world if he doesn’t. Though he would be surprised if The Man doesn’t take him up on his offer, considering he was practically undressing Dean with his eyes just moments ago. 

Sam walks past him, out the door to the impala, and Dean takes a final drink of his beer, which has gone lukewarm. It’s not the kind of liquid courage he prefers, but something is better than nothing. He avoids The Mans eye contact as he slips into the men’s bathroom, perhaps to tease him, perhaps because this is the hottest guy he’s seen in a long time and he’s undeniably nervous. He washes his hands to keep busy while he waits for his potential partner, and if anyone inside the bar notices when two men go into a single bathroom at almost the same time, they don’t say anything. 

His back is turned to the door as he dries his hands, and he hears the telltale creak of the bathroom door opening, and the lock clicking into place. He turns around nonchalantly, and is simultaneously relieved that the guy actually got the hint, and nervous because, holy shit, this guy is way hotter up close. The Man’s hand is still resting on the door handle as he smiles at Dean. Dean musters as much courage as he can in this man’s presence, and he swallows. The Man’s eyes follow his throat. 

“Evening,” Dean says, in a lighthearted, flirting tone, his eyes flicking down The Man’s body to his long legs, back up to his broad shoulders. If his eyes stop in the middle to acknowledge the slight bulge at the front of his pants, The Man doesn’t complain. 

“Evening yourself,” The Man responds equally as flirty, and _holy shit_ Dean thinks, _this guy has the sexiest god damn voice_. The Man takes a few steps forward, closing the small space that separated them. He’s only slightly taller than Dean, but he oozes dominance, and makes Dean feel tiny underneath his gaze. He stops in front of Dean and reaches out to place his large hand on Dean’s waist. “Do you have a name, pretty boy?”

Dean shivers at the compliment. ”Dean,” he smiles, his face only inches from the other man’s. “I’m Dean.”

“Hi Dean,” The Man says, holding intense eye contact that makes Dean squirm. “I’m Rocky.” Dean smiles even wider at that. “Oh, you think my name is funny?” Rocky teases, and he steps in closer, their noses brushing now. 

“Not funny,” Dean says, his face getting hotter and hotter by the second, his dick starting to fill just from hearing this guy’s voice. “I like it.”

”Well thank you, Dean.” 

Hearing his name in Rocky’s mouth turned Dean on more than he’d care to admit, and somehow Rocky seemed to notice, and smirked at that.

”The things I wanna do to you, Dean,” Rocky said before he pressed his mouth against Dean’s, placing another hand on Dean’s hip and pulling them flush together. Dean opens his mouth hurriedly and Rocky takes the invitation, plunging his tongue to lick into Dean’s mouth. Dean’s hands come up to Rocky’s head, one cupping his jaw, the other tangling in his hair. Rocky pulls away to bite and suck at Dean’s bottom lip, earning a low groan from Dean. Rocky’s breathing hitches at the noise, and he using his bruising grip on Dean’s hips to grind their hips together, hard.

Dean gasps and pulls away, just for a moment, to look at Rocky; his pupils are blown, and blend into his dark brown eyes to the point where he can’t find where the pupil ends and the color begins. His eyes drift down to find Rocky’s lips, swollen and pink and full and glistening, and Dean needs to taste. He leans in and licks Rocky’s lower lip, and again, and bites and sucks, before slotting their mouths together again. 

“Fuck, Dean,” Rocky groans and backs Dean up against the nearest wall, and grinds hard into Dean’s hip, and Dean can feel the hard line of Rocky’s dick pushing against the front of his pants. He kisses the corner of Dean’s mouth, then his cheek, then down along his jaw, and all Dean can do is run his hands up and down Rocky’s back and sides, trying to find a way inside his shirt to touch bare skin. Rocky slides his hands lower, as far into the back of Dean’s pants as his belt will let him, and squeezes his ass. 

“Oh god,” Dean’s eyes roll back as he whispers into Rocky’s hair. Rocky sucks hard at his neck, leaving a red mark that Dean knows will bruise. The thought of walking around with Rocky’s claim on him makes his head spin with lust. “Like that.”

Dean skirts his hands down Rocky’s sides and reaches the hem of his shirt, which he rucks up and finally runs his hands over his warm skin. He drags his nails lightly down Rocky’s back, and stops at his waist, where he runs his thumbs over Rocky’s sharp hipbones. Rocky shudders a hot breath into the crook of Dean’s collarbone as Dean’s hand moves lower to over the front of his crotch. 

Dean moves his mouth down to Rocky’s throat, and he leans his head back with a harsh exhale of pleasure. Dean licks up the light film of sweat that had formed on his neck from the heat of their bodies moving together. Rocky’s hips are moving minutely into Dean’s, and Dean can tell that he’s getting impatient. 

Dean spins them around, to Rocky’s surprise, so that Rocky’s back is pressed to the wall, and Dean drops to his knees.

Rocky stares down at him, his mouth open and his eyes wide as Dean quickly works his belt open. Rocky unintentionally cants his hips into Dean’s hands, and Dean finally gets his pants open. He pulls them down only far enough to pull Rocky’s dick out of his boxers, impatience taking over. Dean’s eyes widen at the sight in front of him. Rocky’s cock is big, at least 9 inches, and it’s flushed red, a bead of precome forming at the slit.

Rocky is still staring down at him, breathing heavy, a dark flush covering the bridge of his nose and his cheeks. Dean wraps a hand at the base of his cock and looks up at Rocky just as he leans in to stick his tongue into the slit to lick up the precome. Rocky groans above him, a deep, fucked out sound that Dean knows will help keep him company on particularly lonely nights. He draws his eyes back down to focus on the task at hand, and licks a long stripe from base to tip. Rocky’s hands immediately move to grab Dean’s hair and jaw.

Dean spends a few minutes teasing with his tongue, pulling noises from Rocky that he’ll savor for months. He finally wraps his lips around the tip, and sucks lightly, causing Rocky’s grip in his hair to tighten. He moves further down, running his tongue on the underside as he comes back up. It’s slow work, but Dean likes to go slow, to watch his partner fall apart at his touch.

He’s snapped back into the moment when Rocky pulls sharply on his hair, pulling Dean off his cock at the same time, and says in a voice even lower than before, “Nobody likes a tease, Dean.” He’s shaky and shuddering, but still manages a dominant role, and _yes_ , this is what Dean was waiting for. Dean relaxes his shoulders in an attempt to make himself look smaller, more submissive, to let Rocky know that he’s into that kinda thing. And thank god Rocky picks up on that.

With a raised eyebrow, Rocky realizes that this is what Dean wants, to be controlled, to be forced to submit. “Put your hands behind your back,” he says, and Dean’s cock jumps at the command. “And open your mouth, tongue out.” Dean rushes to obey, linking his hands together behind him, and sticking his tongue out just enough to cover his bottom lip. Rocky grabs his cock and gives it a few quick strokes, hissing at the contact. He rubs the head against Dean’s upper lip leaving a trail of glistening precome. He taps it on Dean’s outstretched tongue, and Dean savors the taste. “You like that don’t you,” Rocky says, and Dean can only hum in response with Rocky’s cock now resting hot and heavy on his tongue. “Close your lips.”

Rocky holds each side of Dean’s head and starts shallowly thrusting into Dean’s mouth. With each stroke he goes deeper and pulls out less, hitting the back of Dean’s soft palate, then the back of Dean’s throat. “Think you can take it any deeper?” Rocky asks, though it seems like a rhetorical, since his brutal pace doesn’t let up at any point. Still, Dean nods through the thrusting, loving every second of it. Rocky notices and pushes all the way in so that his cock is nestled nicely in the back of Dean’s throat and stills his movements.

Dean shocks at the sudden change in pace, but adjusts quickly to the lack of oxygen. Even with enough experience under his belt to put a porn star to shame, Dean’s only human. His eyes start to prickle with tears, and his lungs ache for oxygen. Rocky pulls out to let Dean catch his breath, but once he’s satisfied that Dean can breathe, he shoves back in and stills again. He looks down at Dean, taking notice of the bulge in his throat and breathes out, “Your mouth is so pretty, Dean. Your lips look so pretty wrapped around my cock,” Dean flushes and, now prepared this time, Dean takes a bigger breathe before his airway is blocked. Saliva and tears are streaming down his face, but he looks up at Rocky, who is the embodiment of debauched, and swallows around his cock.

Rocky makes an obscene noise that Dean is pretty sure the whole bar could hear, but he can’t think; all the blood from his head rushing to his dick. Rocky quickly pulls from his throat, causing Dean to gag, but Dean recovers like a pro— he has to because the next thing he knows, Rocky is fucking his mouth at a punishing pace. A litany of groans and expletives fall out of his mouth and it takes everything out of Dean not to stroke his own dick in time with Rocky. “Fuck, Dean,” he huffs a sharp breath, “your mouth is so perfect.” Somehow, Rocky remembers that Dean needs to be taken care of too, and whispers in between a particularly filthy groan, “Touch yourself, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t need to be told twice, his hands flying to his belt and zipper, and he pulls out his dick, wincing at how sensitive it is. He begins to stroke his cock in time with Rocky fucking his throat. Dean is painfully close, and he can tell that Rocky is too, his rhythm becomes erratic. His breathing picks up and he mutters out “fuck I’m,” and his eyes roll back. “I’m— I’m close Dean I’m so close— fuck.” Dean hums, and Rocky thrusts once, twice, and then stills as he comes down Dean’s throat. The feeling spikes heat through Dean’s gut, and with only a few more strokes of his own, he’s coming all over his hand and the floor at Rocky’s feet. 

Dean swallows everything, and feels Rocky softening in his mouth, both of them too fucked out to move. Rocky takes a few more moments to regain proper cognitive function and pulls out of Dean’s mouth, tucking himself back into his underwear. Dean does the same, but stays on the floor, his knees starting to ache. Rocky grabs Dean’s jaw and gently angles Dean look at him. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he says, wiping a tear away from Dean’s cheek. Dean blushes hot and pulls his face out of Rocky’s hand with an embarrassed smile. 

Rocky offers Dean a hand and pulls him up off the floor. “No chick-flick moments man,” Dean says with an easy smile. Rocky uses the grip on his hand to pull him into a kiss. Dean’s surprised, to say the least, knowing Rocky can taste himself on Dean’s tongue; not many dudes are into that— especially not random flings with random men in random bars. He can respect it though, happy to know that his attraction was reciprocated, and he wasn’t just used to get off. 

Dean pulls away and looks into Rocky’s eyes and they smile at each other for a minute or two, loopy with post-orgasm bliss. Rocky leans in again and kisses Dean, sweetly this time, no hurriedness, no heat, just enjoying the other man’s presence. Dean smiles against his lips and pulls away, regretfully, to clean off his face and do up his pants. He checks his watch and his eyes go wide with shock. “Dude, we’ve been in here for almost an hour.” Rocky’s eyes widen almost like Dean’s but less with horror and more with humor. 

“Damn,” he laughs. “Well there’s no crime in that, is there?”

“I guess not,” he laughs. He looks at the door to the bathroom, a flimsy piece of wood, the only thing between the two of them and the rest of the bar. He looks back to Rocky, who’s leaning against the sink with a relaxed grin. “Do you think anyone heard us?”

Rocky laughs and leans back, and all Dean can think is _damn, this guy is perfect_. “Yeah, probably.” Dean feels an embarrassed flush creep up his neck. “But hey,” Rocky continues, “if anyone gives you shit, I’ll beat em up for you.” He raps his knuckles against Dean’s jaw as a playful sort of punch.

”Pfft, right,” Dean rolls his eyes and shoves Rocky’s arm away. “My knight in shining armor.”

”Yeah, and you’re the princess, and I have to come save you from the evil homophobic bar patrons,” Rocky teases back, grabbing both of Dean’s arms and pulling him closer to kiss him.

“Oh you can kiss my ass,” Dean says with fake annoyance. Rocky raises an eyebrow, his expression becoming a hint more serious, possibly considering taking up the offer. 

They kiss for a few more minutes, soft, gentle kisses, no heat behind them, just sweetness, companionship. 

Rocky pulls back, almost shyly, his demeanor shifting. “So, I was gonna ask for your number but, uh— heh I don’t wanna push my luck,” he says quietly, almost nervous. Dean’s smile fades slightly, remembering all the times he tried to be domestic without luck. He remembers his dad, he remembers Sam, and what they might think of him, how they might look at him. Rocky sees regret flash over Dean’s face and gives him an easy way out of a difficult conversation. “Hey man, don’t worry about it. Some things aren’t meant to be.” 

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, at a loss for what else he could say. “I want to, I just,” he looks down at the collar of Rocky’s shirt, trying to think of a way to explain it without explaining it. “I can’t,” is all he comes up with. 

“Hey,” Rocky consoles, so painfully comforting that Dean wants to give it all up for him. “It’s alright. I mean it.” Dean meets his eyes and Rocky gives him a small smile, which he returns. “And hey, if you’re ever in town...”

”I’ll be sure to look you up.” Dean checks his watch again, 15 more minutes have passed. “Shit, I gotta get going,” he says remorsefully, thinking _why me, why did I get stuck with such a shitty life_.

”See you around, Dean.”

”Yeah,” he says with a sad smile, “See you,” and he walks out of the bathroom without letting Rocky see his face fall. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this didn’t suck too bad!! This is my first fic, and it kinda went in a direction I wasn’t planning, aka Dean really connecting with OMC rather than it just being a quick hookup in the bar. It felt right though, and makes me wanna add more parts. I’ve always really liked the idea of bi!Dean flirting with/hooking up with men just like he would women in the series, since it make Dean a more realistic bisexual character. TY for reading and I hope you enjoyed!


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